


Counting to Zero

by Humanities_Handbag



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Count Down, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Infinity Train AU, Maddie is a BOSS, this entire thing is metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanities_Handbag/pseuds/Humanities_Handbag
Summary: The number appeared up on the palm a few days after Longclaw found him.[100]He knew, even as young as he was, if the number went down, he’d vanish. So he did his best. Thrown into a new world, living alone, he tried to keep his number as high as it could be to keep himself safe.And then Tom and Maddie found him....Infinity Train AU
Relationships: Maddie Wachowski/Tom Wachowski
Comments: 7
Kudos: 101





	Counting to Zero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smallpwbbles](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=smallpwbbles).



> A birthday gift for smallpwbbles! You are wonderful and talented and I wanted to give you something to say happy, happy birthday and show you how much I appreciate you! So have 6k of Sonic Infinity Train AU.

The number appeared up on the palm a few days after Longclaw found him. 

It was the reason he woke up well into the early hours of the morning, blinking awake to a sickly green glow. A sound crawled up his throat and he let out a strangled wail, kicking backwards until he hit the wall of the treehouse where she’d taken him. 

He closed his paw, opened it, another cry caught in his throat. The light burst through his closed fingers. “ _Longclaw_ -” 

She was a flurry of feathers as she woke, claws scratching the wood floor as she hurried to him. “ _What’s wrong_ . Sonic, _what_ -” Her eyes, glistening in the green, stared down. Her words fell flat. 

He closed his hand again. Opened it. The number was still there, winking up at him. He scratched at it with his claws, gritting his teeth. 

“Sonic, _stop_.” 

“No!” His claws dug through, hot and biting. “It won’t leave! It won’t _leave_.” He scratched at it again, and again, and again-

_Get off_

_Get off_

_Get off_

-until Longclaw’s wings fell around him, the weight holding him still. She smelled like earth and rain, and he ducked his head, shutting his eyes. The glow of the number was brighter here, in the pitch beneath her features. His nails dug harder. Beneath them, blood welled. “Sonic, please. _Stop_.” 

He did, just barely.

Her voice was even and calm when she said, “Let me see.” 

Lip trembling, he extended his paw up towards her. “What’s… what is it?”

“I’m not sure.” She turned his paw side to side, squinting. 

It was a clear number. Held between brackets, it glowed bright as a gem, and the light of it speckled the roof of their little shelter. 

[100]

“Did it just appear?”

He nodded, wiping his eyes. “It won’t come off…” 

She swiped a feather across it. Blood smeared down his fingers, and her face softened. “No. It seems like it won’t.” She stared at it a moment more. “Well. I suppose…” She breathed in deep and let it out slow. “I suppose… all we can do is wait.”

He blinked up, terror catching like a snagged string against his ribs. “For _what_!”

“I can’t be sure. But until then…” She let go of his palm, moving towards a trunk she kept in the corner. When she returned, she was holding a woven bandage. “Sometimes,” she said, wisely, “it’s best to forget about things until the morning.”

With a few easy twists and tucks, the number was sealed behind cloth. 

They would not look at it again until days later, after Longclaw had moved them to a new home, farther from the Echidna’s who were stalking them. 

“It changed,” he breathed, staring. 

And it had. 

**[110]**

“See,” she said. “It can’t be bad. Numbers aren’t bad when they go up.”

“... what happens if they go down?”

She covered it once again with the bandage. “We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” she promised. 

* * *

A few months later, Sonic turned three, and his number grew with him. 

Longclaw took him to a weaver, who crafted a pair of white gloves to help cover it. 

“Best to keep it out of sight,” Longclaw intoned, watching the young hedgehog twist his paws this way and that, exploring the new weight. No light seeped out from beneath. 

“But…” he flexed the gloved hand. It felt weird, but good. Warm and secure. “We still don’t know what it _means_.”

“Some things are best not knowing,” she said. “But listen to me, Sonic.” And she cupped his face in her wings. “All you need to worry about is keeping yourself safe. Whatever this is… it was given to you for a _reason_. To keep you safe. To keep you alert. A warrior's mark.” She moved a wing away, touching his hand. “From one warrior to another. You’ll be alright if you look after yourself. If you don’t trust anyone. Do you understand, Sonic?”

They never discussed what might have happened if they went down. She never brought it up, and he was too afraid to ask. But he knew, even as young as he was, what Longclaw was thinking. 

If the number went down, he’d vanish. 

The little warrior she was raising would be no more. 

* * *

A month later, Echidna’s attacked and Sonic was thrown through a portal. 

He was left with was a bag of rings, a last goodbye, a number on his hand-

**[115]**

-and a long lasting message.

_Look after yourself._

_From one warrior to another._

_Don’t trust anyone._

He closes his gloved fist around the numbers, and runs as far away as he can. 

* * *

Sonic is good at running. 

It’s one of the only things he _is_ good at, besides air guitar and saving animals from car tires. 

And so he runs. 

Through the forests, across the roads, down the weaving sidewalks of the town after the last shop had shuttered its doors and turned off its lights. He weaved between the beams of streetlights and watched the world swallowed by dusk. 

It was easier to feel less alone when the world was smeared into a blur. Easier to feel _everything_ when _everything_ was behind him. 

He celebrates ten birthdays in this new world. Keeps track of his height on the walls of a cave he’d found on his second year there, etching it onto the side with bits of white stone. 

And he keeps track of the number, too. It grows with him. 

“Good,” he says one morning, peeking beneath the white gloves he kept on to keep it hidden. It was one of his weekly chores; checking the number. His throat would clench before he’d do it. His hands trembling. Worried that perhaps it would begin ticking down. So it was a relief when it didn’t. 

**[121]**

“I won’t let it go down,” he told the ceiling of his little cave, as if Longclaw was somewhere far off, and could hear him. The green of his number flashed and blinked, and he hid it beneath his glove as quickly as he’d seen it. He wouldn’t vanish. The person she’d raised - he would not let that vanish. “I promise. I’m doing fine. I’m doing _fine_.”

He said that each time, too. 

It never got easier to believe.

* * *

Sonic wasn’t technically alone, though. He’d argue that to anyone who asked. Sure, sometimes the silence and his own voice were suffocating. And yes, he’d gotten a little (ha) tired of his own company. But he _had_ people. 

Donut Lord and Pretzel Lady, for example. 

They lived in a little green house on the outskirts of the big green forest. 

Donut Lord was a cop. Pretzel Lady helped animals. 

He’d found them after his sixth year on Earth. His number had been [178] by then, still hidden beneath his glove. And Sonic… Sonic adored them. 

They were his. Through the window, he watched them live their lives, and he did his best to be a part of it. 

“What’s for dinner?” He asked one night, standing on his toes to stare through the dining room window. It was spaghetti. He watched Tom burn the sauce and Maddie order them pizza, laughing. 

“I love this story…” He whispered, lying on the roof, reading Maddie’s open book from afar. She was a leisurely reader who sipped tea between every page. It was a mystery. He didn’t get to the end, though. She’d gone inside before he could. 

“I’m really glad I have you guys,” he told them one night, sitting on the little hill by their house. It was nighttime. The stars winked at the mountains. On his little hill, he peeled off his glove and stared down at the number, opening and closing his hands. The green light blinded him for a moment, and he put his hand flat against the ground in the soft moss. 

His number had gone up again. Good. That was good. 

He could see them in the kitchen, drinking mugs of tea, a plate of store-bought cookies between them. Donut Lord said something that made Pretzel Lady laugh. Sonic’s hand, glow muffled, clenched into the moss, and his eyes burned. 

He watched them until the plate was empty and the dishes were washed. When they turned out the lights, he whispered, “goodnight”. 

He slipped the glove back on. The glow vanished. 

And he ran away. 

It was what he did best. 

* * *

He recounts their time together every time. He’s not sure who he’s telling. Himself, maybe. Longclaw, perhaps. His cave echoes the words back to him, and it’s something of a comfort. 

“They watched Speed again,” he told the emptiness of his cave. He sat cross legged, back against the beanbag. “Tom made popcorn and burnt it, and Maddie threw it in the air and caught _almost_ all the pieces, and it was _amazing_ . And then… then they made _ice cream_ from scratch. It was _so much fun_.” 

_Don’t trust anyone_ , the echoes through time reminded. 

He picked at his mismatched sneakers, nodding. His eyes burned. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.” He swallowed. His hand clenched. “My number went up,” he said. “That’s good, right? That’s good. I’ll be alright. And I’m safe. And I’ll make sure it keeps going up. I won’t vanish for nothing. I’ve been a warrior. I’ve taken care of myself. Okay? That’s good, right?”

 _Right_ , the cave echoed. 

_Right_

_Right_

_Right_

* * *

Sonic was ready to continue living his life this way. Running. Watching. Making sure that his number went up (and it did every day - usually when he was done with his daily trip to the green house in the woods). 

And then he was shot in the leg with a tranq gun. 

Things got a little more complicated after that. 

* * *

“What’s that?” 

Sonic blinked, turning to Tom, who was pointing to the bottom of his glove where a green glow had slipped through. 

They were on the second day of their trip to find the rings. They’d ended up staying at another dingy motel. Tom, to his credit, was trying to make sure they ate somewhat healthy, and had gone down the street to pick up food from a nearby diner. The remains of hamburger wrappers were lying on the scratched up desk by the door. There was also a container of green beans, and Tom had insisted Sonic eat at least half. 

And now they lay on their beds. 

Sonic was tired. He was more and more tired lately. 

Or maybe it was just because he was going to sleep on real beds, now, even if these ones were a little torn up and smelled like mildew. 

And after Tom had turned off the light, that’s when he noticed the glow. 

“Oh…” Sonic flexed his hand, face growing hot. “It’s uh… it’s-” He looked away a moment, swallowing, and then quickly slipped his glove off. He hadn’t looked at the number in a few months, but since then it had ticked up a few digits. He felt a weight lift off his chest. At least, in all the chaos, one good thing had happened. 

“Huh…” Tom leaned against the headboard, squinting at the glowing digits. “Is it an alien thing?”

“What? No. Or- I don’t know. It’s just… it’s _my_ thing, I guess.” 

“Huh,” he said again. 

“It just showed up one night.” Sonic shrugged. “I’ve had it since forever.”

“And the number means… what exactly?”

“I don’t know. It keeps changing.”

Tom’s brows rose, and his shoulders shifted back. He tilted his chin up. “It… changes?”

“Yeah. And Long- my mentor, from a long time ago? She said that I needed to make sure they never went down.”

“What happens if they go down?”

“I don’t know. It can’t be good.” He pulled his glove back into a secure place. “I’ve watched Keanu movies. I know what happens after a countdown.”

They sat in silence. Through the thin walls, they could hear coffee pots hissing and couples fighting. A siren wailed in the distance. “Well…” Tom’s voice broke the barrier, and Sonic jolted, hand clenching. “Hopefully you get some answers soon. Until then,” and he smiled across the gap between the beds at Sonic. “You’ve got someone to help you keep that number wherever you want to keep it.” 

* * *

Longclaw had given him instructions for if he ever got caught. 

Keep running. 

Take care of yourself. 

Never trust anyone. 

There was another world waiting for him. Full of mushrooms and Silence where he could be alone, and he knew that escaping to there was the only way to follow her instructions. The safest path. The Warrior's path.

And so he surprises even himself when he hands the bag of rings over to Tom. 

They’d brought him home after the battle. Made up a spare room. Got him a glass of water and a huge, warm t-shirt to stave off the evening chill. It went down to his ankles and smelled like Tom, and he’d pressed his nose against it when they weren’t looking and breathed in leather and aftershave and burnt sugar. 

And he’d handed over his rings. 

“Buddy. Are you _sure_ -” Tom held the bag, and the 

“Just… If you can keep them safe for a little while? I…” And he’d swallowed, looking down at his socks poking out from beneath the hem of the _Green Hills Sheriff's Office_ t-shirt. “I don’t want to leave yet, but I want them safe So-”

“Of _course_.” And Tom showed him where they’d be; at the top of the closet where he said he kept all of Maddie’s Christmas and birthday and anniversary gifts. “We’ll keep them there, alright? For as long as you want to stay.”

“Right,” said Sonic. “Until I’m ready.”

Tom nodded. “When you’re ready.”

* * *

He forgets about the number for a little while. 

Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he just decides to let some things go. Because in the morning there’s breakfast on the table, and his favorite movies are added to the netflix queue, and they make room for him between the couch. And at night, when they all are coming back from walking Ozzie down a forest trail, Sonic running frantic circles around trees, laughing and goading Tom on, the little green house is there, and it’s waiting for _him_ , and the open windows cut like a lighthouse through the dark. 

So yeah. Maybe he didn’t forget. Maybe he just let them bring him through the front door, and the last thing he wants to think about is disappearing.

Because it would mean losing this. 

* * *

Which is so unfortunate, because a week later when he slipped his glove off in the shower, his number had changed. 

Tom and Maddie had to tear their way up the stairs when the cry rattled the walls. 

The bathroom was thick with steam, and they blinked through it before seeing the hedgehog sitting beneath the stream of scalding water, staring at the open palm in front of his face. 

**[89]**

“Sonic-”

“It changed!” He looked up at Tom. There were tears pricking his eyes. “Why did it- I- I’m going to-” He was breathing too quickly, too loudly, his head beginning to spin. 

Tom was kneeling in front of the tub while Maddie quickly turned the shower off, sitting on the lip of the basin, staring down at the numbers, amazed. “What… Tom, what _are_ those?”

Her question went unheard as Tom grasped Sonic’s shoulders. “Buddy. It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_!” 

“Sonic. You’ve got to breathe-”

“I’m gonna _vanish_ !” The words tore their way up, biting and cruel. “I’m going to _disappear_! I’m- I’m-”

Maddie slid off the edge of the tub, and her arms were around him. Water soaked into her shirt and pants, but she didn’t care. She kneeled there in the draining water, holding him. “No,” Maddie said. “Do you hear me? _No_.”

“But-”

“Don’t.” She shook her head. Her thumbs moved to swipe away the tears from under his eyes. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Sonic.”

“You can’t stop it.” His throat hurt from crying, and his voice sounded broken and far away. “You _can’t_ stop it. Whatever happens-”

“No,” she said again. She took his hand, and the green burst between her own fingers. “I don’t know what these are. But you listen to me, Sonic. You _listen_ to me. Nothing happens in this house without us dealing with it together. And if we say you don’t go…” She looked up at Tom, who nodded, “then you sure as hell aren’t going anywhere.”

It was decided. After Tom had wrapped him in a towel and they all sat at the kitchen table, staring down at the number [89] together, that this was just going to have to be something they’d solve.

First they explained it to Maddie as best they could. Sonic didn’t have much information. But he knew enough that the numbers went up and down whenever _something_ happened.

“So…” Maddie said, looking between Tom and Sonic, “it’s supposed to go up?”

“I think so,” said Sonic.

“Apparently,” said Tom. 

Maddie looked between them again. Her fingers steepled between her chin. “How do you _know_ , though?” Her eyes were fixed on the number, and Sonic turned his hand over, face burning. 

“I just… I just know. I’ve been trying to keep them up my whole life, like Longclaw said I should. And I don’t know why they’re going _down_ or what happens when they do. But… but I mean… it could only mean one thing…” He was worn out from crying, and panic had made his head feel stiff and fuzzy. 

“You don’t have to figure this out alone, bud,” said Tom. “That’s what we’re here for. Okay?”

He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be sure. 

And yet… 

“Okay,” he rasped. 

Tom reached over and took his hand. Squeezed the fingers in his own. “We’ve got you,” he said. 

And Sonic wanted to believe him. 

On the other side of the table, Maddie leaned back in her chair silently and crossed her arms.

* * *

Tom and Sonic checked his numbers as often as they could. The goal, the two boys had decided, was to keep the numbers up. 

Which was difficult when they didn’t _want_ to go up. And all Sonic could do was watch them in resigned horror, peeking beneath the glove at every little change. 

After two weeks in their house, Sonic helped Maddie make dinner. 

The number shifted to **[77]**.

Tom took Sonic to the ball field and threw him a few pitches, narrating each home run. The two of them returned back to the little green house, panting and grinning. 

Beneath the catchers mit, the number dropped to **[68]**. 

One morning it was the first thing he’d noticed after his glove had come off when he’d slept. 

“It went down again,” said Sonic, showing them his paw at breakfast. His other glove sat beside the bowl of cereal Tom was pouring for him. 

“Hmm.” Tom put down the box, reaching down to hold his paw, swiping at the number with his thumb. 

**[55]**

“When did it change?”

“I don’t know…” Sonic swallowed, trying to curl his fingers inward to hide it, but Tom’s hand kept his fingers flat. “I guess last night?”

They’d sat in the backyard the night before and made s’mores over the fire pit.

“We’ll figure it out,” said Tom, passing him a spoon. 

Maddie, sitting with a bowl of oatmeal and that morning's paper, peered at it over a story about a 

* * *

A month after he’d joined them, Tom and Maddie sat Sonic down at the table and told him that they wanted him to stay. 

“... really?”

“Really.”

“Like… as a house guest.”

Tom laughed, shaking his head. “Like family, dingus.” Tom was like Sonic in that way. Humor was a fantastic emotional shield. And so it was a marvel in itself that Tom softened moments later. “We love you, bud. And we want you here. With us.”

Maddie nodded, smiling. “We were thinking about going to IKEA this weekend. All three of us. We could pick out a bed for you. Start a room. Get you settled before we begin to make things more official.” 

Sonic didn't know what to say. He sat there, shaking, hearing the words he’d imagined only in echoes on cave walls, trying to think of something to say but couldn’t find any of the words. 

Which was fine. 

They held him and held him and held him. And that was enough. 

* * *

Which was why it was such a tragedy to see that his number had gone down. 

They didn’t notice him disappear up the stairs. Didn’t see him slip into the guest room and hide under the bed. It felt more like a cave beneath the beams in the tight space, and it helped when the panic became unbearable. 

His face was wet, and he held his hand out, scratching at the number. 

“ _Why_ ,” he hissed, choking. “ _Why don’t you want me to be happy_.”

The number didn’t answer. 

He knew what Longclaw would have said. Her words had followed him most of his life. 

_Look after yourself._

_From one warrior to another._

_Don’t trust anyone._

“But I don’t _want_ to look after myself,” he seethed. He was furious. Angry. His entire world was in agony. “And I _want_ to trust them! And I don’t _want_ to be alone! _Why can’t I just be happy_!” 

His nails bit into the palm of his hand, as if he could scratch out the number like he’d tried so many years ago. Trying to claw the answer from the glowing green digits that refused to tell him _why_. 

They said nothing. 

He withdrew his claws when the sting and the pricks of blood welled up. He wiped his eyes, sniffling, chest heaving. 

Alone, beneath the bed, he let the world swallow him whole. 

* * *

Only he wasn’t alone for long. 

The door opened a few hours later when the sun had begun to cast long, red beams across the floor. There were socks by the bed. The edges of yoga pants. 

“Sonic?”

A sniffle. 

“Sonic? You okay?”

Another sniffle. 

“Tom went out for ice cream cake to celebrate. He said you liked chocolate chip mint best. Is that alright?”

Nothing. 

Maddie let the silence sit for a moment before kneeling on the ground. She lowered herself until she was lying on the floor, and then she scooched her way under the bed to join him. Between them, the green burst through his fingers. Her face was outlined in the soft glow.

She reached out her own hand and took his own, pressing the fingers flat. 

**[23]**

“Oh,” she said. “Is this why you’re hiding?”

He nodded. Dust collected in his quills. 

“When did it go down?”

He sniffled. “I don’t know…” A lie. He knew it. 

So did she. 

“You’ve been watching these numbers since you were little, honey. When did it go down?”

“When…” He swallowed. “We were all together,” he said. “And you said we’d go shopping for my room. And that I could stay. And I was happy.”

“Hm.”

“And then I looked and…” He pulled his hand away, holding it to his chest. 

Her hand returned, only this time it landed softly on his back, moving up and down his spine. “I’m just going to take a guess here. But did it used to go up when you kept yourself away?”

“Kept myself safe,” he corrected. It came out a little weak. 

“Right,” she said, though she didn’t sound like she believed it. “And that’s when it went up?"

He nodded. “This is why-” Sonic said, his knees curling up and bumping against his chest. “This is why I’m better off alone… She was right. She was _right_. And now- now-”

He couldn’t get through it. 

She brushed a thumb at the base of his neck, quieting his quick breaths. “I for one would be very sad if you were alone.”

He wiped his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

“Honey… did you ever think that maybe it was _okay_ if it went down?”

“Maddie-”

“All I’m saying,” she said, fingers brushing his shoulder, “is that maybe it means less than you think.”

“It’s got to mean _something_ though.”

“Couldn’t it _just_ be a number?” 

He went silent. She took his hand again. 

“I don’t want you to go. And neither does Tom. And I don’t think we could let you go if we tried. So.” She wiggled a little closer, dust spanning out around her. “Could it just be a number?”

“But… but if it goes down-”

“Numbers go up and down all the time,” she said, evenly. “Couldn’t this just be another number?” 

He swallowed. "I don't know."

"That's okay."

He shook his head. "I need to know _something_." 

"Then know that we love you. Can that be enough right now?"

His breath caught.

She brushed some lint out of his fur. “I know it’s a lot to ask for you to trust me. To trust us. But I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright? Just trust that we can take care of you. Can you do that?” 

“... maybe.”

“I’ll take it.” She squeezed his hand. “Now come on. Let’s get out from under here. I think my hair is full of last year's dust bunnies.” 

* * *

That night, from in his room, he could hear Tom and Maddie speaking softly. What they said, he could barely hear. But he caught enough of it to at least catch a word or two. 

_I think that…_

_… you sure…?_

_… worth trying._

_… meant to go down…_

And then, as they were coming up the stairs; “I think you might be right, Mads.” 

“When am I not?” There was a smile in her voice. “I’ll send out for the paperwork.”

They must have thought he was asleep, because he could hear them moving towards the guest room door. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep his breathing slow. The door opened a crack. 

“It won’t be as quiet around here anymore.” Tom. 

“Good.” Maddie. “We’re in for the long haul.”

“We are.” 

The door shut just as Tom was finishing his final sentence, but Sonic could hear it muffled through the door. “Did you ever think we’d be _parents_?” 

Maddie’s response was lost, but Sonic could guess what she was saying. 

He curled up under the covers, trying to ease the warmth under his chest. Parents. 

He was going to have _parents_. 

His hand curled, and he stared down at the fist, already knowing what he’d find if he looked under the glove. 

So he didn’t. 

“I don’t care,” he told Longclaw and the numbers and the Echo and whoever else was listening. He drew his hand to his chest. “I don’t care what the number is. I don’t _care_. Because even if I’m only around for a little bit longer, I get to be happy.” 

No one responded. 

He shoved his fist beneath the pillow and fell asleep. 

* * *

He will finally check the numbers. 

After they got his room ready. After the paperwork arrived and he watched them fill it out like it was the most exciting thing he’d ever seen and _not_ four hours of tedious bureaucracy. After they’d mailed it out and Maddie told him they’d know their answer in 6-8 weeks and took a family picture and hung it on the wall. 

After Tom drew him close on the front porch, their walk with Ozzie done, and said _I can’t wait until you’re ours_. 

After all that, he checked. 

It was a rainy morning. Tom was at work pulling a double shift on Saturday while Wayde attended his cousin's wedding. Maddie was home. 

He found her on the screened in back porch, sitting in one of the chairs. There was a forgotten book lying across the arm.

Beyond the screen, rain pelted the gravel and turned the world into white noise. 

When he appeared in front of her, a blue streak fading behind, she noticed his quiet panic and reached her arms out for him. 

He lifted himself into the chair with her. It wasn’t big enough for two, and when he’d finally settled beside her (and she’d moved enough to the side for him to wiggle in) they were squished together. Which was fine. He tried to take up as little room, but she’d banished the idea of tentative long ago and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her side. 

Her heartbeat sounded like rain. 

She rested her chin on the top of his head. Her hand rubbed up and down his back. There was a warmth to it all that made him want to cry, and he hid his eyes against her collar bone. He’d cried more in these last few weeks than he ever had and it had left him raw. He felt three again, hiding beneath porches, wishing he had more than just Echoes. 

Tom’s flowers were still hanging on, even as fall began to coax the leaves into changing, and heavy drops pelted the petals. 

“My number went down.” He broke the silence. It somehow felt larger anyway. 

She hummed. “Did it?”

“Yeah.” 

“Did you figure out why?” 

“No,” he said. 

“That’s alright.”

“... are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Thunder rolled above them. A flash of lightning burst through the clouds. 

“M’ scared.” The truth was simple, and it terrified him. 

Her fingers dragged through the fur on his head. “That’s alright, too.”

His palm shook, and he opened his fist.

**[2]**

“It’s going to keep going down,” he said. “If I stay here and I let you adopt me, it’ll go down.”

“Probably.”

They watched through the screen for a moment. The air was misty and drifting. The sky bulged gray. “What if I vanish?”

She breathed in deep and let it out slow. Her heartbeat stayed even. “Do you trust us?”

“... yeah.”

He was surprised to find that he meant it.

“Then let it be what it’s going to be,” she said. “Numbers go up and down everywhere every day. It happens. There are better things to do.”

“Like what.”

“Like sitting here with my son.” 

He tried to hide the laugh when she poked his side, pressing his face into her shoulder instead. 

_My son._

He caught it moments later. “Oh,” he said. He stared down at their socked feet. “So I’m your-”

“You are.” There was no question. “Tom calls you that at work, too. The guys are starting to complain. It’s the only conversation he’ll have with them.”

Sonic’s eyes burned. “So you’re my…”

“Mmmhm. We are.”

“Oh.”

Wind blew through the screen and ruffled his fur and her hair. 

“I’m scared,” he said again. 

“Lots of things worth having are scary.” 

“How do you know?”

She held him a little tighter. Her lips pressed to his brow, and he could feel her smiling. “Just do.” 

* * *

They go in later for lunch. He doesn’t hide his paw, leaving his gloves off to the side while he helps to spread mayonnaise on the bread and she passes him slices of cheese and turkey. Tom got back a little after 5 and soaking wet from his run across the lawn through the downpour. 

“Hey, Buddy!” He’s swept up onto Tom’s shoulder, the two of them perusing through the front door. “Missed you.”

Sonic laughed. “How was work.” 

“Boring. Rainy. You’ll have to come in one day and livin the office up.”

“Maddie’s job’s more exciting.” 

“Take it back!”

Sonic ran laughing away as a wet jacket was thrown his direction. 

They didn’t feel like making dinner, so Tom ordered pizza, and they sat in front of the TV on the floor and ate it, licking off their greasy fingers. Sonic’s hand flashed. He didn’t notice the number. Didn’t notice Tom look down at the green glow. Didn’t notice Maddie’s eyebrows rise.

And at the end of the night (the rain letting up to a steady shimmer against the street lights), he crept up the stairs, leaning against the banister to look behind at them on the couch. 

He says is so fast - _goodnightmomgoodnightdad_ \- and races up the stairs before they can respond.

They were at the bottom of his stairs in a few minutes on their own way to bed anyway. 

“ _Love you_ ,” he hears. 

He musters enough of a voice to say it back. 

Their happy laughter follows them until the door closes. 

* * *

  
  
  
  


[0]

  
  
  


* * *

He doesn’t notice until a week later that his number had counted itself down. And it took another week before it had vanished completely. 

And when it does, Sonic is still there. 

But he wasn’t. 

(And, Tom and Maddie contend, neither are they.)

Their old selves - they’ve been left behind to Echoes. 

When a number first appeared, he was told to look after himself, to keep his number high, and to trust no one. 

Now he has a room. He helps wash dishes. There’s homework and baseball games and mandatory bedtimes. 

He’s not a warrior. 

He’s not alone. 

He’s looked after. 

And he trusts.

* * *

He didn’t think about it much anymore. But sometimes it just came up. When Maddie forced him to take off his gloves to watch. At night, when the green light wasn’t around to wake him up.

During the middle of a ferocious Mario Kart battle on a Saturday. He turned his palm this way and that, sitting on the couch, the nintendo controller at his knee. “It’s weird not having it.”

“Good weird?” Asked Tom, looking mournfully at the TV screen, where his character was once again knocked off the Rainbow Road. 

“Totally,” Sonic said. He turned his hand around a few more times. 

“So… you figure out why it was there?”

“Mom thinks it was just a number.” 

“What do you think?”

He looked down at his hand. He looked back up at Tom. 

At his Dad. 

“Not sure,” he said.

* * *

.

.

.

(He had some ideas)

(but he’d leave those to himself)


End file.
